bad ideas i discovered today

there are times in life where the cure and solution to all problems is a BLT.  I like mine on rye toast with either a thin slice of cheddar, three slices of avocado or a fried egg.  I understand that this is an always delicious and occasionally deserved treat.  like hot dogs or french fries. Basically, I like my bacon very crispy and in moderation.  Not so for some.  Please see this. And this.  These are bad ideas always.

hello, 2009, and welcome with open arms

the massive, heaving door to 2008 is locked and the key thrown away.  good riddance.  hello, 2009, let's be friends.  

meanwhile, a new list, 26 things to do before i turn 26 should be appearing here shortly.  any recommendations?

it ended with a chicken

tonight, during a blizzard, my father and I trussed a little five pound chicken and set it in a three hundred and fifty degree oven for two hours.  my mother and i made macaroni and cheese and prepared a salad.  is roasting a chicken an art? 

art is fundamentally the use of imagination to create something aesthetically pleasing.   But, if creativity is a human expression of life and if life is sustained with food then the preparation of a humble little chicken is indeed art.  

i am not terribly good at writing, or at photography, i can get by with a set of water colors but that is about it.  when it really comes down to it my creativity is best expressed with salt, pepper, and a myriad of other ingredients.  

tomorrow i turn twenty five and i am happy to report that while i have not perfected the art of the roast chicken, i have at least attempted in the last 6 months a number of new and exciting endeavors.  I feel like I know myself better today than i did last june, and i gather that is an art as well.  

la finetre

seriously, before any apartment building is updated with new ovens or linoleum or even caulking in the bathroom, please freaking install some double-pane windows.  these single pane buggers have got to go--they are literally sucking the heat i pay for right on out the window.

jobs i don't have, educations i didn't get

hello.

note: i am unemployed.  tack it on to the list of monumental changes that occurred this year.  

note: i am no longer in finance.  

note: i took the GRE.   When this test is taken, there is a box the test taker elects to check that then sends the test taker's scores to a bank from which graduate programs can recruit the adept.  

note: i want to study public policy.  

here is a list of programs that have recruited me thus far:

I-schools (read: libraries)

Business Schools (moving away from these at a perpetually increasing rate)

Masters in Teaching schools (pretty much hate kids)

Art programs (could be fun, but thus far my only artistic talent is lattice pie crust)

from this i have gathered that my scores are not so much appealing to policy programs, and therefore have decided will use my rather advanced analytical writing skills to persuade them that the GRE is a miserable measure of potential, and imply that because i am inept at math I am that much better at other things. 

like being annoyed and irritated that i have all sorts of time to think about this now.  come on, obviously, i would make an excellent bureaucrat.

no. 4

I did it.  I ventured, I veered, I hiked, I carried my own water through the wilderness to the Washington coast.  Cross number four off the list.  I saw the Washington coast and man was beautiful.  

Conversely, it was unsettling, and worth it in a backwards way.  I mean, it was incredible seeing something as monumentally gorgeous as the ever expanding horizon, the undulation of the ocean over the course of a day, and comprehending the vastness of the world I inhabit.  However, what really struck me is the realization that, really, backpacking just isn't for me.  I was hoping the trip would invigorate the dormant Montanan in me, but it definitely did not.  I like nature accessible in small doses on a monthly basis, in a familiar I know where my car is parked and that getting to it is easier than hiking three miles on slippery boardwalk way.  I like it in the there is no wild life near here that could/would stalk/eat me.  I like my nature to put me at ease instead of send me into an anxious fit.  

I don't blame the trip, really.  It was gorgeous and I did have an awesome time conversing, searching for petroglyphs and firewood, and cooking on the hot burning coals of the fire.  What I didn't love was getting up close and personal with a black bear, fearing that I would be chomped up by his enormous teeth, and being unable to let the encounter go and feeling unsettled for the remainder of the day/weekend.  Worse though, was feeling like I wasn't alone when I was alone.  You know the feeling, like twenty feet away someone lurking in the darkness has their eye on you, watching your every move.  My hair was constantly standing on end.  

My conclusion is this--I like nature, the easily accessible by car and foot, preferably without bears kind.  And I like it with a book and a picnic basket.  And I like it best when it can be reflected upon from the comfort of my very own bed immediately following.  Camper I am not, but appreciative of nature's beauty I very much am.    

25% of the things I love

1.  dried roses in a silver cup

2.  knowing no such thing as a silver spoon

3.  analog and digital

4.  rubics cubes

5.  correspondence, via thank you notes

6.  gold picture frames

7.  collections of pottery, boxes, window frames, dishes, and clear glass

8.  brown boots

9.  swing sets and slides

10.  polaroid

11.  hours with anne

12.  making pasties

13.  breaking tile and gluing it back together again

14.  vintage posters

15.  clean sheets

16.  color!

17.  painting and drawing

18.  aaron time

19.  chips and guacamole at senor moose.

20.  cashews

21.  really old buildings (you know, with character)

22.  oven roasted tomatoes

23.  earrings and cloisonne bracelets

24.  parasols

25.  being thoughtful of others